After the Date
by Emotistic Optimistic
Summary: A drabble of Nny and Devi's thoughts after their, ahem, eventful first date. Plenty of angst for you emo kids, and some dark, death-humor for you Vasquez fans who like that stuff.


It all had been going so well…up until that last moment. Up 'til he pulled out those knives and started waving them at me…

So well…and he seemed so nice and, well, sane. I loved it when he visited me in the bookstore. It was always a pleasant break from the assholes I usually have to deal with. And tonight…tonight was the best night I've had in a long time. Well, except for almost dying, but that's beside the point.

But…when he _did_ have those knives out…something about it was a bit of a turn-on…god, I sound like one of those bondage freaks. Maybe it was the look in his eyes…he was fuckin' crazy, but there was _something…_

Maybe I'm just dealing with shock.

_Dear Die-ary,_

_I knew it wouldn't work. I just knew it wouldn't. It never does. The shit that's gotten into my head won't let_ anything_ work. And things were going so nicely…fuck…_

_I don't blame her for running. All the others tried. But the fact that she stopped me…that's different, not planned…_

_It makes me love her all the more._

_She was different…she _really_ understood most of me. She was intelligent, creative, sympathetic, and very adept at defending herself._

_God, she was beautiful…_

What I really don't get is the fact that I actually _miss_ him. I mean, the bastard tried to kill me. But…it makes me sad, knowing that we're not going to have our talks at the bookstore, or anywhere for that matter. And that we won't ever go anywhere as…

God, I feel like a high-schooler again, whining about how so-and-so broke up with me after a week. Fuck romance. This shit's way too much for me to handle.

But still…the fact that something clicked between us…

Damn that bastard…

_I know she must hate me now. I mean, I fuckin' tried to kill her. But I didn't…_

_If I _had_ killed her, she wouldn't hate me. And I'd still have my ideal._

_But all that's gone now, like everything in life. I knew the beauty of this night would decay if I let her live._

_But that's the thing: did she really over-power me, or did I _let_ her get away? Maybe she's the key to killing this monster in my head. Maybe by her getting away, I'll be able to overcome the shit I'm in…I'll be fine…_

_And yet I have the urge to go hack the limbs off a Girl Scout…I'll be right back…_

I've always had a bad history with first dates, ever since college, really. Normally the guy's a dick, or he attempts to rape me, or he takes a shit in his pants. But I've never been almost killed before. I have to admit: that's a first.

What am I doing? I should go to the police, turn him in…

But I'm not. That's fucked up.

Maybe this is a sign that I'm just _not_ supposed to date. Ever. In my life. Next time, I probably _will_ be killed. In that case, I should have stayed. At least he was never an asshole.

He was nice, thoughtful…he liked the fact that I was a painter. Now that I think about it, I never asked what _he_ did for a living.

He said I was beautiful…and I think he really meant it.

God, there I go, sounding like a fuckin' teenager again. I wonder how many girls he's said that to before slashing them to pieces…fuckin' serial killer…

It doesn't matter. I'm never talking to him again.

_Fuck, no Girl Scouts. Why do they only sell those damn cookies for one month a goddamn year?_

_I've never really been on a date like this before. I mean, sure, I've been on _dates,_ but normally it's just been going to a movie, going back to my place, girl expects sex and ends up getting killed. _

_Tonight was different, though…we talked. Really talked, about more than her hair, her clothes, how much money I made, etc. We talked about life, about the assholes in the world and how one day they'll get what they deserve. We talked about interests, how she's a painter and I draw comics._

_We almost kissed…_

_Fuck, I _should_ have killed her! I should have fucking killed her and gotten on with my life! It would have been so much more satisfying that killing all those other sluts who got with me for something different than their normal, abusive, asshole boyfriends!! FUCK!!_

_Hang on, there's someone at the door…_

I wonder what he's doing now…I can't help it, I'm still thinking of him. I keep thinking of his eyes, of that weird look behind the insanity as he pointed those knives at me. I really think he didn't want it to end…and I don't think I wanted it to end, either.

Obviously I don't want to die for it not to end, but, still…it could have been a lot better…we could have…

That's it. I'm done. I'm done with him and all his psycho, homicidal problems.

I hope Johnny burns in hell with the rest of this fucked up world.

_This must really be fucking me up. A fuckin' Jehovah's Witness showed up at my door, and I didn't even kill him with all the bells and whistles I normally do…shit…_

_It would have been better for the both of us if she died. She and I would both be happy. I wouldn't have been too extravagant…I'd want to see how beautiful she was before I buried her…_

_God, I'm so in love with her…_

_The problem is that I can't kill her now. I just _can't_. I don't know why, and it's such an odd feeling, but, if I did track her down and kill her…it just wouldn't be the same…_

_It'd be like when I killed Edgar: nothing._

_If I had killed her earlier, it would have been full of passion, of happiness. Now…now it's gone…_

_Now I just love her…_

_I have to distance myself. I can't think of her like this. If I like or dislike her, I'll care, and it's only when I care that I get like this…I can't think of her with like or dislike, or any emotion…_

_She has to live._

_So that's it. I can't think of her beauty, of her wit, of her voice…_

_To me, it's as if I _did_ kill her. As if I had sliced through her flesh and watched her bleed on the ground as she died._

_Devi is dead to me, nothing but a corpse._

_It's over._

_I'm going to go back out and look for a fuckin' Boy Scout this time…_


End file.
